Draco Malfoy's Guide To Being A Good Slytherin
by LOTRRanger
Summary: In which Draco's brilliant speech on being a good Slytherin is unceremoniously interrupted by a particularly insolent first year.


_Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter. Obviously._

Draco Malfoy's Guide To Being A Good Slytherin (as told by Draco Malfoy himself)

"Being a good Slytherin is a difficult thing; you must work at it; you must _want_ it. You cannot simply wake up one day and be a good Slytherin. No, no. It does not work like that." Draco Malfoy ceased his pacing and turned to the wide-eyed faces of the first year Slytherins. It was only their first night there, but Draco would waste no time in warping their young, fresh minds.

"There is one central quality that every good Slytherin _must_ have. There are, of course, others, but this is the main quality: they must loathe Gryffindors, mudbloods and blood traitors with the passionate, burning heat of a thousand suns. _They _are your _enemies_.

"Good Slytherins do not open up to complete strangers. That may lead to finding common ground, which may lead to friendship. You _never_ make friends. Friends are forbidden. You have connections. Friends stab you in the back, sometimes quite literally. Friends can betray you. Friends can hurt you where it hurts the most. Connections do not; they do not have the power do such things.

"Along the same lines, you do not love. You merely appreciate the usefulness of a person or object. Love opens you up to hurt, to pain. You never smile, either. You show no sign of happiness. You smirk, instead." Draco raised his head proudly. "Smirking is a Slytherin trademark." Draco displayed the Slytherin trademark.

"You must always carry yourselves aloof from everyone else. After all, we are their superiors in both breeding and intelligence. We are better than they are." Draco's eyes narrowed when one particularly inquisitive, and insolent, first year raised her pale, thin hand.

"Why, Mr. Prefect? They're magical peoples just like we are, aren't they? Why should we hate them?" The girl asked. Draco scowled, but Dorcas innocently maintained her curious stare. Draco tried to find it in himself to forgive her, she was a half-blood and did not know better. He decided to cure her of that as soon as he could. "Besides, Anne's nice, and she's a blood traitor _and _a Gryffindor." Dorcas' eyes widened further. "And I saw you stare at the red-headed sixth year Gryffindor in the Great Hall like Dad stares at Mum."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco sniffed. Dorcas frowned.

"Yeah, you do!" Dorcas protested. "She's the only red-headed prefect. You stared at her _all throughout_ dinner." The boy beside her's eyes widened.

"That's the Weasley girl!" the boy exclaimed excitedly. "Ginny Weasley!" Dorcas' green eyes lit up.

"Hey! She's a blood traitor too!" Dorcas added. Draco found himself the subject of the first years inquisitive stares and his whole speech (he still had at least five minutes left) flew out of his head.

"I don't get it." A boy in the back of he room said. If memory served Draco correctly, he was Crabbe's cousin. Draco could see the family resemblance. Dorcas gave an exasperated sigh.

"It _means_, half-wit, that the prefect likes a Gryffindor blood traitor." Dorcas said as if she was explaining it to a five year old. "_Therefore_, he is not following his own orders." Dorcas lifted her chin proudly as she turned back around. "Isn't that right?" Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Absolutely not." Draco ground out. "Bed, now, all of you." Draco ordered Dorcas sniffed archly, offended. Draco ground his teeth and threw himself into one of the leather seats.

"What rubbish." Draco muttered. "Absolute rubbish." But Draco nonetheless found his thoughts straying to the Weasley girl. She had indeed grown to be quite beautiful, and she had the brains to boot. He also knew for a fact that even the Slytherin's in his year found her quite attractive. Once again, Draco thought that The-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die was a moron for rejecting Ginny. "Weasley!" Draco muttered. "Weasley, _not_ Ginny."

"I _knew_ it!" Draco's head snapped up. He hadn't heard Dorcas come down the stairs. Draco scowled at her, but she didn't seem to be phased. "I _knew_ you liked her!" Dorcas crowed.

"I do _not_!" Draco growled. Dorcas laughed in response. "And didn't I tell you to go to bed?" Dorcas shrugged and flopped onto the chair next to him.

"I did, half-wit." Dorcas said. "Then I got right back out." Draco glared.

"I could take away points for that, you know." Draco pointed out. Dorcas arched an eyebrow.

"Duh. But you wouldn't take away points from your own house. That's how to be a good Slytherin prefect." Dorcas replied, admiring her manicured nails. Apparently she was smarter than Draco had originally given her credit for.

"I could always make an exception." Draco ground out. Dorcas laughed again and gave him a look that said 'Yeah, and I'm pixie'. "So why aren't you in bed?"

"Honestly. I thought prefects were supposed to be intelligent." Dorcas muttered. "You never said to _stay_ in bed, and besides. You aren't my father." Draco could tell that Dorcas was going to cause him problems. Dorcas stood suddenly. "As much as I am enjoying our _stimulating_ conversation, I have better things to do with my time." Draco watched Dorcas sail up the stairs.

"She'll be fine here." Draco muttered. He turned back to the fire, trying to avoid thinking of Gi...Weasley. Draco wouldn't give the first year the satisfaction.


End file.
